The distinction may best be illustrated by the well-known analogy of a rope and a snake. Deceived by a similarity in appearance, men frequently take a rope lying on the ground for a poisonous snake and are terribly shocked on that account. But when they approach and carefully examine it, they become at once convinced of the groundlessness of this apprehension, which was the natural sequence of illusion. This may be considered to correspond to what Kant calls Schein.
Most people, however, do not go any further in their inquiry. They are contented with the sensual, empirical knowledge of an object with which they come in contact. When they understand that the thing they mistook for a snake was really nothing but a yard of innocent rope, they think their knowledge of the object is complete, and do not trouble themselves with a philosophical investigation as to whether the rope which to them is just what it appears to be, has any real existence in itself. They do not stop a moment to reflect that their knowledge is merely relative, for it does not go beyond the phenomenal significance of the things they perceive.
But is an object in reality such as it appears to be to our senses? Are particular phenomena as such really actual? What is the value of our knowledge concerning those so-called realities? When we make an investigation into such problems as these, the Yogâcâra school says, we find that their existence is only relative and has no absolute value whatever independent of the perceiving subject. They are the “ejection” of our ideas into the outside world, which are centred and conserved in our Âlayavijñâna and which are awakened into activity by subjective ignorance. This clear insight into the nature of things, i.e., into their non-realness as âtman, constitutes perfect knowledge.
(3) When we attain to the perfect knowledge, we recognise the ideality of the universe. There is no such thing as an objective world, which is really an illusive manifestation of the mind called Âlayavijñâna. But even this supposedly real existence of the Âlayavijñâna is a product of particularisation called forth by the ignorant Manovijñâna. The Manovijñâna, or empirical ego, as it might be called, having no adequate knowledge as to the true nature of the Âlaya, takes the latter for a metaphysical agent, that like the master of a puppet-show manages all mental operations according to its humour. As the silkworm imprisons itself in the cocoon created by itself, the Manovijñâna, entangling itself in ignorance and confusion, takes its own illusory creations for real realities.
(4) For the regulation of moral life, the Yogâcâra with the other Mahâyâna schools, proposes the practising of the six Pâramitâs (virtues of perfection), which are: 1. Dana (giving), 2. Çîla (moral precept), 3. Kṣânti (meekness), 4. Vîrya (energy), 5. Dhyâna (meditation), 6. Prajñâ (knowledge or wisdom). In way of explanation, says Asanga: “By not clinging to wealth or pleasures (1), by not cherishing any thoughts to violate the precepts (2), by not feeling dejected in the face of evils (3), by not awakening any thought of indolence while practising goodness (4), by maintaining serenity of mind in the midst of disturbance and confusion of this world (5), and finally by always practising ekacitta[31] and by truthfully comprehending the nature of things (6), the Bodhisattvas recognise the truth of vijñânamâtra,—the truth that there is nothing that is not of ideal or subjective creation.”
(5) Mahâyânism teaches that there are ten spiritual stages of Bodhisattvahood, viz., 1. Pramuditâ, 2. Vimalâ, 3 Prabhâkarî, 4. Arcismatî, 5. Sudurjayâ, 6. Abhimukhî, 7. Dûrangamâ, 8. Acalâ, 9. Sâdhumatî, 10. Dharmameghâ[32]. By passing through all these stages one after another, we are believed to reach the oneness of Dharmakâya.
(6) The Yogâcârists claim that the precepts that are practised by the followers of Mahâyânism are far superior to those of Hînayânists. The latter tend to externalism and formalism, and do not go deep into our spiritual, subjective motives. Now, there are physical, verbal, and spiritual precepts observed by the Buddha. The Hînayânists observe the first two neglecting the last which is by far more important than the rest. For instance, the Çrâvaka’s interpretation of the ten Çikṣas[33] is literal and not spiritual; further, they follow these precepts because they wish to attain Nirvâna for their own sake, and not for others’. The Bodhisattva, on the other hand, does not wish to be bound within the narrow circle of moral restriction. Aiming at an universal emancipation of mankind, he ventures even violating the ten çikṣas, if necessary. The first çikṣa, for instance, forbids the killing of any living being; but the Bodhisattva does not hesitate to go to war, in case the cause he espouses is right and beneficient to humanity at large.
(7) As Mahâyânism insists on the purification of the inner life, its teaching applies not to things outward, its principles are not of the ascetic and exclusive kind. The Mahâyânists do not shun to commingle themselves with the “dust of worldliness”; they aim at the realisation of the Bodhi; they are not afraid of being thrown into the whirlpool of metempsychosis; they endeavor to impart spiritual benefits to all sentient beings without regard to their attitude, whether hostile or friendly, towards themselves; having immovable faith in the Mahâyâna, they never become contaminated by vanity and worldly pleasures with which they may constantly be in touch; they have a clear insight into the doctrine of non-âtman; being free from all spiritual faults, they live in perfect accord with the laws of Suchness and discharge their duties without the least conceit or self-assertion: in a word, their inner life is a realisation of the Dharmakâya.
(8) The intellectual superiority of the Bodhisattva is shown by his possession of knowledge of non-particularisation (anânârtha).[34] This knowledge, philosophically considered, is the knowledge of the absolute, or the knowledge of the universal. The Bodhisattva’s mind is free from the dualism of samsâra (birth-and-death) and nirvâna, of positivism and negativism, of being and non-being, of object and subject, of ego and non-ego. His knowledge, in short, transcends the limits of final realities, soaring high to the realm of the absolute and the abode of non-particularity.
(9) In consequence of this intellectual elevation, the Bodhisattva perceives the working of birth and death in nirvâna, and nirvâna in the transmigration of birth and death. He sees the “ever-changing many” in the “never-changing one,” and the “never-changing one” in the “ever-changing many.” His inward life is in accord at once with the laws of transitory phenomena and with those of transcendental Suchness. According to the former, he does not recoil as ascetics do when he comes in contact with the world of the senses; he is not afraid of suffering the ills that the flesh is heir to; but, according to the latter, he never clings to things evanescent, his inmost consciousness forever dwells in the serenity of eternal Suchness.